


The Banana Bridge

by Artemis_Day, Sigridhr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Artist Steve Rogers, F/M, Flirting Is Hard, Fluff and Humor, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Or Is he?, Pining, Pre-Relationship, art classes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/Artemis_Day, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigridhr/pseuds/Sigridhr
Summary: Darcy is not doing too well in her weekly art classes. Thankfully, she has some help.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 41
Kudos: 71
Collections: Marching Orders





	1. Chapter 1

[](https://imgur.com/7h6MeC8)


	2. The Banana Bridge

Darcy’s bridge looked like a banana. She stared at it for five minutes, trying to reconcile the shape on the page with some kind of common household object, and banana was the best she could come up with. Any potential Freudian implications were a matter for another day. Possibly no other day. At least not a day when she had to sit in a room seven feet away from the living breathing Adonis that was the assistant teacher. 

“That looks good,” Steve Rogers said, leaning over a woman look at her canvas. “Your dog is really coming along. I like those gray tones.”

The woman, whose name Darcy didn’t know but who sported bright red hair and long fake nails, pouted. “It’s an elephant.”

Steve blinked. “Oh, right! Yeah, I see it now.”

From this angle, Darcy couldn’t see more than a vague set of lines on the unlined white paper, but she’d take his word for it that drawing from memory might not be this woman’s forte. It certainly wasn’t hers, after all.

This was what she got for screwing her times up and making it to the rec center just in time for every other class to be full. All her first few choices were gone. Debate, photography, even Aquacise had a three-page waitlist. In the end, the only class with seats left was a basic drawing course taught by a woman who believed that the basic fundamentals of reality were restrictive to the artistic soul. 

“Draw from the heart!” she dreamily declared at the start of today’s session. “Draw only what you feel, not what you see! Draw a creature from your nightmares! Draw the angel who guides your hand through life! Draw what your soul tells you the world must see!”

Darcy had watched a movie the other day with a bridge in it, so she drew a bridge. 

“That looks nice,” someone behind her said as she tried to erase the curvier bits without ripping the page.

“Thanks for the encouragement, but...” Darcy froze. The shadow over her head was big and broad. It could only belong to a guy with superhero proportions and smoldering blue eyes she thought about every night before bed. “Uh… that is to say, thank you… for the encouragement… I guess.”

Such a nice guy was he, Steve didn’t even laugh at her. He just smiled with those ridiculously perfect pink lips of his, the jackass. “That’s what I’m here for. It’s a bridge, right?”

“It sure is!” Darcy proudly showed off her hard work, the upward curve in the middle of the bridge and the tiny specks for cars struggling to make it to the top without crashing and burning on the other side. Also now that she thought about it, this paper was a little too yellow. “It should be anyway.”

Steve pulled up a chair. “Your lines do need a bit of work, but it’s good for a first attempt.”

“How’d you know it was my first?” Darcy asked, biting her lip. She didn’t suck  _ that _ much, did she?

As if reading her mind, Steve shook his head. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. My first few drawings were absolutely terrible. Compared to that, this is pretty good.”

On the first day of class, both the teacher and Steve presented some of their original artwork as a way of introducing themselves. The teacher’s stuff would probably look amazing after a few hits of acid. Meanwhile, Steve’s landscapes and portraits were like something out of the Italian Renaissance. He was so good, he needed to be in an art museum. All the art museums. Every single one.

When Darcy became president, that was the first law she’d pass.

“You know, when I first signed up, I kind of thought this would be an easy class,” Darcy mumbled, her cheeks turning pink as she smiled sheepishly. “Let me just say how sorry I am for my prior ignorance.”

He chuckled. “We all start somewhere. No one becomes successful at anything overnight. You have to walk before you can run.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.” Darcy glanced at the clock. There were twenty minutes left in class, just enough time for her to fix the lines and make her banana look truly bridge-like. It would be great because now she was craving fruit. Also Steve. Actually just Steve. “You know… I’m free later if you want to continue this conversation somewhere more private.”

She was glad she’d worn a more form-fitting shirt today. This one had very little cleavage, though. Stupid janitor leering at her at the time and making her cover up. Her greatest asset was gone!

Steve hummed. “Now that you mention it, I do have a group of friends I meet with sometimes to discuss art. You should join in.” 

Darcy had emotionally collapsed the moment the word ‘friends’ popped out of his mouth. If she were an anime girl, this would be the part where she dramatically faceplanted for comedic effect. “Yeah, sounds fun...”

With a final smile and nod, Steve moved on to the next person. He complimented their outlining and the shading on the tree (which actually  _ was _ a tree for once) like he didn’t have a care in the world. Darcy wished she could relate. She also wished this stool had a back so she could lean without falling.

_ ‘Okay… that did not go well,’ _ she sighed.  _ ‘Next week, I’m wearing my crop top, creepy janitor be damned.’ _

When class ended, Darcy was the last one out. She carried her easel and chair to the back of the room and stacked them neatly on their respective piles. By then, only Steve was left, taking stock of the paintbrushes and checking under the tables for garbage. 

“Are you going to hang your drawing up at home?” he asked.

Darcy snorted, tossing the rolled-up paper haphazardly over her shoulder. “I’m thinking it would look better lining a dumpster somewhere.”

“Don’t say that,” he said. “Even if you shove it in the back of your closet, it’s worth keeping if only to remind yourself later of how far you’ve come.”

It was like he was never out of encouraging teacher mode. Darcy was starting to think he might just be like this naturally. “Eh, I don’t know, maybe.”  _ ‘If I even want to take another class without you.’ _

Steve nodded. He grabbed a pen and paper off the teacher’s desk, scribbling something down. “If you need any more convincing, my offer is still open.” He held the paper out to her. “Anytime you want to talk, just let me know.”

His handwriting was decent. Legible, but only just. It gave Darcy a weird sense of relief. He actually did have flaws!

On the page was a set of numbers, starting with the area code. It took her way too long to realize this wasn’t the address to some exclusive underground cafe for introspective artist types and would-be philosophers. When she did, her face heated up.

“Uh…” she swallowed.

Steve smiled. “Like I said, whenever you want.”

He walked her to her car, waving as she drove away. Darcy couldn’t stop grinning the whole way home as she sang along to the radio and tried to decide where in her bedroom the banana bridge should hang. There were so many great spots to choose from. Almost too many.

She might have to call in a second opinion, but that would be just fine.


End file.
